


Cherry Blossoms Across Your Lips

by Sosh_022



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: "'ow can ze brightest witch of 'er age be so smart and so dumb at ze same time!", Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, BAMF Fleur Delacour, BAMF Hermione Granger, F/F, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Mahoutokoro - Freeform, Rivals to Lovers, Triwizard Tournament, Veela Freeform, but also kinda oblivious as fuck, hermione is highkey a genius, it pains fleur to no end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27556036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sosh_022/pseuds/Sosh_022
Summary: Hermione, Harry, and Draco have been nominated to represent Hogwarts in the biggest wizarding competition of all time - the Triwizard Tournament. Teams of three from nine wizarding schools all around the world will gather together to compete for a chance at eternal glory, fame, and money. It's here within the jade green walls and everblooming gardens of Mahoutokoro where Hermione and Fleur meet again.aka an HP AU with HP characters. Voldemort never happened. Everyone is a seventh year student.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 119
Kudos: 310





	1. Prologue

“Hermione, are you still in here?”  
  


No response. 

Ginny peeked her head into the bedroom and saw the packed trunk sitting atop one of the four beds. The witch in question however was nowhere to be found. That left just one place. A place, in hindsight, Ginny should’ve checked first. Shaking her head, she made her way down the Gryffindor tower and towards the Hogwarts library. 

  
  
  


* * *

The smell of old tomes and parchment hit Ginny’s nose as soon as she entered the library. She walked up to the welcome desk and greeted the stern witch sitting there, opting for her most polite smile.

“Good morning, Madam Pince. Is Hermione here? They’re all waiting for her back at the Great Hall.”

Madam Pince glanced up sharply from her book. Like always, Ginny couldn't help but stare at her long hooked nose. She could imagine it now, Madam Pince as a vulture. She would be just as terrifying as she was now. 

“Miss Granger is in the Magical Illusions section, I believe.” 

Ginny snapped her gaze up, hoping she didn’t get caught staring. She forced a little more cheer into her smile. “Thank you.” 

She turned and continued walking into the library before suddenly stopping and retracing her steps back. Madam Pince looked up warily as Ginny reappeared in front of her. 

“Er, where is that again?” Ginny asked sheepishly. The look Pince gave her was wholly unimpressed. It wasn't _her_ fault. The Hogwarts library was _humongous_. Apart from Hermione, Ginny doubted any student could navigate this maze of bookshelves with ease. 

Without responding, Madam Pince merely flicked her wrist. A book popped out from a bookshelf and began wandering into the stacks. Ginny hurried after it. 

“Thank you!” 

“No running!” Madam Pince’s stern voice chased after her. Ginny immediately slowed to a brisk walk. As soon as she was out of Madam Pince’s sight, she resumed sprinting after the book. She didn't bother being careful. The library was empty after all. The entire school, save for Madam Pince apparently, was gathered in the Great Hall. 

After many twists and turns and several flights of stairs, Ginny found herself in a random section of the library. 

“Merlins, is this how Hermione stays fit?” Ginny always considered herself athletic, being on the Quidditch team and all, but even she got tired after climbing these three flights of stairs. 

She followed the floating book until it led her to a small clearing furnished with several wooden study tables. Out of the ten or so available spots, only one was occupied. 

“Thank you,” Ginny said to the book. It dipped, almost like a bow, before floating away back to where it came from. Ginny took a moment to catch her breath before heading towards the lone girl. 

To no one’s surprise, least of all Ginny’s, Hermione Granger had her nose stuck in a book. And like always, it was a comically large and (probably ridiculously old) tome, one that dwarfed Hermione’s thin frame. 

Probably another reason why Hermione was so fit. Those books did not look light. 

Coming up to stand behind the girl, Ginny crossed her arms and waited. 

After a few moments, she began tapping her foot. 

Still no response.

“Everyone’s waiting you know?” she said eventually.

Hermione didn't look up. “I have at least one more hour.”

Ginny smiled amusedly at her bookworm friend. “Actually, the portkey leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“What?” Hermione snapped her head up. Brown curls bounced violently off her shoulders. Ginny watched as floating red numbers appeared out of nowhere over the table. 

A nonverbal wandless _Tempus_ charm. Of course. 

Sometimes, she couldn't help but marvel at how easily Hermione performed magic. 

“Oh no!” Hermione stood up, waving her hand aimlessly. The large book she’d been reading closed shut and flew inside her magically charmed bag. She turned towards Ginny with an apologetic look. “Time must’ve gotten away from me.”

“Yeah, time tends to do that,” Ginny smiled wryly. 

“Thank you for getting me,” said Hermione, running and a hand through her hair as she fixed her robes. “It would’ve been bad if I missed it. Come on, we should hurry. Poor boys. They must’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Eh,” Ginny shrugged. “We’re all kind of used to it.” 

Hermione shot Ginny an empty glare that had the redhead giggling, before walking away.

“Where are you going?” Ginny shouted after her. “The exit is this way.” She pointed in the direction she just came from. 

Hermione looked over her shoulder, a knowing grin flashing across her lips. “There’s a shortcut this way.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, throwing her arms exasperatedly into the air, before following after the older Gryffindor. “Of course there’s a shortcut and of course _you_ would know it.”

Without missing a beat, Hermione responded, “Harry would too if only he used his map for anything other than just sneaking out of the castle to visit Hagrid!” 

“Right, because finding shortcuts within the library is so much cooler.”

“It is!” 

* * *

  
  


They hurried into the Great Hall with eight minutes to spare. Nearly the entire school was gathered inside, waiting for her arrival. 

“She’s here!” 

“There she is! Hurry!” 

“Ah, it appears Granger has arrived."

  
“Geez,” Hermione muttered under her breath as over two hundred pairs of eyes turned towards her. “You’d think the feast yesterday was enough of a farewell party.”

She walked past the large excited crowd of students, professors and ghosts alike, each shouting their own variations of encouragement, good-lucks, and congratulations towards her. She did her best to smile at them and thank them for their support as she squeezed her way through. 

Hermione gasped as a wave of cool air washed through her stomach.

"Peeves!" 

“Hehehe! Good luck Granger!” Peeves cheered as he flew away. 

“Come now, give her some space.” Dumbledore’s voice rang out. 

The crowd eased up somewhat and Hermione gave the headmaster a grateful look as she made her way past the last of the students, coming to stand in front of her best mate Harry Potter and...Draco Malfoy. 

Draco donned his signature sneer as she approached. “About time Granger. I was beginning to think you got scared and ran away.”

Hermione raised a challenging eyebrow in his direction. “You wish, Malfoy.” 

Harry stepped forward, an appeasing grin on his face. “Don’t mind him. I’m glad you’re here now.” His eyes fell to her feet and he frowned. “Where’s your stuff?”

Hermione looked down, seemingly noticing her lack of luggage for the first time. "It should be on my bed where I left it." 

Ginny groaned loudly. “I can go get it,” she grumbled, already turning around to head back. 

“No need.” Hermione held out her palm. _"Accio!"_

There’s a moment of silence. 

And then a couple more. 

A cough from the crowd. 

Then a quiet _wooshing_ sound that grew louder and louder until a trunk came flying through the doors of the Great Hall, nearly taking the heads off of some unfortunate students who ducked and screamed for cover, before it settled down gently by Hermione’s feet. 

“Sorry about that,” Hermione grinned sheepishly. Harry shook his head in fondness. 

Dumbledore smiled at her as he stepped forward, his eyes twinkling with good humor behind his half-moon spectacles. “Looks like we’re finally all prepared and ready to go. You have a few more minutes before the portkey activates. Say your last goodbyes now.”

Hermione and Harry turned towards their friends standing at the font of the crowd. 

Ron held out his arms. “Come ‘ere you two.” They rushed forward. 

He pulled them into a tight hug, squeezing the air out of them. “I’m going to miss you guys.”

“It’s only for a month,” Hermione reassured him, hugging him back just as tightly. 

“Yeah, we’ll be back before you know it,” said Harry. 

“Yeah right,” Ron sniffed jokingly. “I really wish classes weren’t a thing. That way I could go with you guys. I’ve always wanted to go visit Japan. I heard their national Quidditch team is pretty good. You reckon you can try and get their autographs if you run into any of the players?”

“I can try,” said Harry, never one to say no. 

Hermione pulled away from the hug, and gave Ron a stern look. “You better pay attention in class when we’re gone, Ronald. No slacking off and waiting until the last minute to do your assignments. I won’t be here for you to copy your essays off of.” 

Ron gulped. It was never good when Hermione used her mom-voice. 

“I don’t want you repeating your seventh year just because you failed your NEWTS.” 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, alright mum.” He grinned at Harry. “You were right. A month is too short. Oh, how I’m going to _miss_ her nagging. Good luck, mate.” 

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said to Hermione. “Ron will be fine.”

Hermione didn't look convinced. She turned to Ginny for support. 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t flunk his classes,” Ginny promised. “You worry about your competition. I’ve got him handled.”

“Just in case though, I checked out a couple of books from the library that should help you on the next two weeks worth of assignments. They should be under your bed.” Hermione told Ron. 

“Of course you did,” he muttered before giving her a wry grin. “I’ll read them all. Happy?” 

He pulled the two of them back into a hug. “Don’t worry about me. You two just focus on winning and bringing home that eternal glory to Hogwarts.” He lowered his voice mischievously. “And if you manage to find a way to embarrass Malfoy while you’re at it, at an international event nonetheless, all the better, I say!” He looked at Harry. “You’ve got the Dungbombs and Exploding Whizz Poppers that Fred and George sent you, right?”

“And a whole lot of other stuff that I have no idea what they do,” Harry confirmed. 

“Good. Don’t be shy to try them out on Malfoy.” 

Hermione tapped both of the boys’ shoulders in mild admonishment. “Draco’s our teammate. We should try to get along.”

“With that privileged git? Good luck,” Ron snorted. “You’d be lucky if he doesn’t betray you both mid-competition. I still can’t believe Dumbledore chose him to represent our school.” 

“Draco’s decent in his academics,” Hermione retorted stiffly. “And I doubt he would do anything to sabotage the team. It’s in his favor to work with us.”

“You never know.” The look on Ron’s face was a little unsettling and Hermione wanted to ask what he meant but Dumbledore’s voice boomed through once more. 

“Wrap up your goodbyes! This shoe is starting to look hot!” 

“Anyways,” said Ron. “Good luck. When you come back with that prize money, don’t forget to share it with me.”

“Of course,” Harry promised. 

“And send me letters. I want to know everything that’s happening.”

“Definitely. We’ll floo you too,” said Hermione. 

“You better.” Ron patted them both, giving them one last look, before stepping aside to let the others have a chance to say goodbye. 

“Good luck Harry. Good luck Hermione,” said Luna. “May your journey be guided by Single-Toed Quigglebears.” 

“If anyone can win this competition, it’s you two,” said Neville. “Do us proud.” 

“Yeah! Show ‘em who’s boss!” shouted Ginny. “We’ll be cheering you on from home.” 

Hermione smiled. “Thank you guys. For everything.” 

“Hurry now!” Dumbledore urged. “The portkey is activated!” 

Hermione and Harry quickly made their way over to the single worn out shoe placed in the middle of the floor, which was now starting to vibrate. They placed their hands on it. Draco inched his own hand away when Harry’s pinky brushed his. He glared at him. 

“Don’t touch me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and gave Hermione a silent look that says, ‘ _Can you believe him?’_

Hermione could only shrug. Here’s to a fun month ahead of them. 

“Now, a final word to our proud champions,” Dumbledore beamed. “May you three bring–” 

And with a quick _swoosh_ , they were yanked away. 

  
  


* * *

Hermione stumbled to her feet, her stomach lurching violently against her. Merlins, she didn't think she would ever get used to traveling by portkey. Next to her, Harry dry heaved into the grass. She patted his back sympathetically. 

“Look at you two,” Draco commented snidely from several feet away, “rendered useless by a simple portkey.”

Despite his words, Hermione noted that he was definitely looking a little wobbly in the legs and a little green in the face. She opened her mouth, a retort ready on her lips, when the sight behind Draco caught her attention. Her breath hitched. 

A large white pagoda, highlighted by jade green rooftops, sat majestically atop a white mountain peak. The pagoda was framed by an alcove of cherry blossoms. Loose pink petals flew through the air, carried by the gentle breeze. The mountain was islanded by a large sparkling blue lake with crystal waters. Little balls of light floated over the waters like fireflies. They varied in color, pink, blue, purple and yellow. 

“Wow,” Hermione breathed out. “It’s beautiful.”

Draco turned and Hermione watched as his words got similarly sucked out of him. 

“Dang,” Harry murmured. “And here I always thought no school could ever compare to Hogwarts.” 

“You also didn’t even know that other wizarding schools existed until the start of this year,” Hermione pointed out with less bite than usual, too busy gaping at the sight in front of her. 

“Mahoutokoro,” she murmured under her breath. This was where she will be spending the next month – learning, studying, competing – against the best and brightest wizards and witches her age from all around the world in the biggest, most prestigious wizarding competition of all time. 

The Triwizard Tournament

Harry took a deep breath, glancing at his two companions. “You ready?”

Hermione nodded. 


	2. It’s Kinda Nice Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be words in foreign languages here that aren't translated. The reason is we're seeing things from the trio's point of view. So if you're lost, so are they. But don't worry, context clues will clue you in.
> 
> Also, many thanks to CelticDaughter, LostParkMih, HarmonicWisp and everyone else who helped, for teaching me about certain cultural aspects of Brazil/Japan. (I hope I got everyone's username correct. Go check out their works if you haven't.

The three of them made their way down the hill towards the lakeside. As they approached, Hermione noticed a woman with short blonde hair set in elaborate curls wearing an obnoxiously green jacket. The woman had her back to them and looked to be in the middle of muttering to herself. 

“Oh no,” Hermione whispered under her breath. “What is _she_ doing here?”

The woman turned at the sound of their footsteps, her heavy jawed face breaking into a wide devilish smile as green eyes peered up at them through jewelled spectacles. 

“Ah! There you three are. Come, come. Note this down,” She said to her Quick Quotes Quill. 

“The handsome Harry Potter, our Golden Boy, accompanied by young dashing Draco Malfoy and –” she eyed Hermione’s wild curls and overall windswept appearance from the fall earlier and gave her a tight smile, the enthusiasm in her voice dropping – “the muggle born witch Hermione Granger triumphantly arrive at Mahoutokoro looking in tip top shape to win the Triwizard Tournament for Hogwarts!”

The quill moved furiously to write it all down. Rita peered over its work and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “No, scratch that. We’ll work on it.” 

The quill nodded, scratching off the last two lines and closed the notebook. Rita set her beady little gaze back on the three Champions, eyes flashing with hunger. 

“How are my champions doing? Are you surprised to see me?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Hermione muttered. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Harry said politely. It was not good to see her again. 

“I'm sure you already know, I’m here to cover the Tournament.” She booped Harry on the nose and walked to stand between him and Draco, hovering uncomfortably close. The poignant scent of her perfume attacked their noses. The scent was so strong, Hermione couldn't even tell what it was supposed to be, only that it was ridiculously overwhelming.

“Over this next month, I will cover your every move. What you eat. Who you talk to. My loyal readers want to know _everything_ and I, Rita Skeeter, will give it to them! So we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” 

"That sounds..." 

“Splendid. Right you are Harry boy.” Rita beamed at him before reaching out to ruffle Draco’s hair. “And look at you! Have you two boys gotten taller in the past few months since the tryouts?”

“Perhaps,” Draco responded dryly. Even he who loved attention so much did not seek it from this slimy two-faced slander writing tosser.

“Anyways,” said Harry as he peered up at the looming pagoda overhead. “How are we supposed to get up there? Do we fly up on our brooms?” 

“Goodness no,” Rita exclaimed as if Harry had suggested something unthinkable. “Transportation will be here shortly.” 

Right as she said that, large shadows loomed overhead, momentarily blocking out the sun. Large wings flapped through the air, blowing up a light breeze, as five large birds the size of a small car landed on the banks of the lakeside. 

“Sumimasen!”

They all looked to see a Mahoutokoro student riding atop one of these large birds. She had her hair done up in a ponytail off to the side and bangs that covered one side of her face. Her long outer robe which was decorated in little flowers along the sleeve openings and the bottoms was reminiscent of the kimono-style. 

It was the robe’s color, a gorgeous shimmery silver, that caught Hermione’s attention. 

“She’s a _shichidan._ ” Hermione elbowed Harry in excitement. 

“A what?” Harry whispered back. 

“Seventh dan,” Hermione explained. “Their robes change color as the students advance in their magic. Pink means beginner. Gold means mastery.” 

“So I’m guessing being a seventh dan is impressive?”

“It is. There are nine dans total and very few students actually manage to graduate with a golden robe. Most of them only ever get up to the seventh or eighth.” 

“Good to know,” Harry muttered. He wonders if Mahoutokoro had their own version of _Hogwarts: A History_ , because if there was, he had no doubt that Hermione had already read it cover to cover twice over at least. 

The girl hopped off the giant bird and bowed at them in greeting. 

“Hajimemashite.” Her voice was clear, somewhat high pitched, but pleasant to the ear. “My name is Nishino-”

Rita sauntered up to the girl while she was mid-bow and stuck her hand out in front of her. Hermione fought back a cringe.

_‘Oh no, please don’t—‘_

“A pleasure, dear. My name is Rita Skeeter. I’m with the Daily Prophet. Have you heard of it? No? How unfortunate. Well, we’ll take care of that soon enough, won’t we.”

"Eh?" The girl blinked once, a small amused smile donning her face, before she tilted around Rita and peered over towards the trio. 

“Ano, you are the students from Hoguwartsu, hai?” 

Harry stepped forward, ignoring Rita’s aghast face at being ignored, and smiled politely at the girl. 

“Uh yes. I’m Harry Potter. These are my friends, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

The girl smiled politely at them. “Potter-san, Granger-san, Malfoy-san, welcome to Mahoutokoro School of Magic. My name is Nishino Akagi. I will be your student helper during your stay here. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me or anyone else. I will do my best to help. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.” 

Despite Nishino’s accent, Hermione noted that she had a good grasp on the English language and was relieved to know that language wouldn't be as big a barrier as she’d originally thought. 

Nishino bowed again at the end of her introduction. Hermione and Draco easily returned the gesture while Harry awkwardly dipped his head. All the while, Rita stood to the side, bristling with impatience. 

Once she straightened, Nishino gestured over to the waiting birds. “Kochira e douzo.”

The three of them looked at each other, wondering if they’re understanding her correctly. 

Hermione was the first to step forward. She approached one of the large birds and carefully lifted a hand, silently asking for permission. The bird trilled and bowed its head. Hermione gently ran her hand over the top, feeling the softness of the feathers underneath her palm.

“They’re giant storm petrels,” said Hermione. “Mahoutokoro accepts students starting from age seven but they don’t board until they’re eleven. They use these birds as a way to transport the kids back home and to school every day.” 

“Granger-san is correct,” Nishino chimed in, beaming at Hermione. 

“She usually is,” said Harry as he climbed up his own petrel with the athleticism expected of a Quidditch player. He grinned down at Hermione from his new perch. “You reckon this is going to be scarier than the time we rode Buckbeak?” 

“Doubt it,” Hermione answered as she and everyone else each climbed aboard a petrel. “Hippogriffs aren’t meant to be ridden.”

“Don’t fall and break your neck, Potter. Hate for us to be disqualified after making it this far,” Draco taunted. 

“Why don't you worry about your own neck, Malfoy? If you fall and hurt yourself, your father's not going to be here to help you,” Harry shot back as Draco scowled. 

Nishino watched them converse with a curious twinkle in her eyes. “Hold on tight,” she warned. There was only a split second between her warning and the petrels taking off into the sky. 

Hermione couldn't help but let out a small shriek as the familiar thrill of flying swooped through her stomach. At least she wasn't as bad as Rita, whose high pitched screaming caused her storm petrel to flinch from its shrillness. 

Now Hermione was never good at flying. That was more Harry and Ginny’s specialty. But there was something about riding a living breathing creature, that just made the whole experience feel a lot more _breathless._

Once they made it past the clouds and the scenery appeared below them like a painting being unveiled, Hermione found herself even more at a loss for breath. If Mahoutokoro could be described with one word, it would be _majestic._ The white jade seemed to sparkle under the abundant sunlight and the reflection of the crystal lake. Hermione felt eleven again, having just stepped off the Hogwarts Express, and seeing Hogwarts in her full beauty for the first time. 

“Once again, _Mahoutokoro e yokoso,_ ” Nishino shouted over the wind. “That over there is the Eternal Cherry Blossom Forest. And over there is the Immortal Bamboo Forest. If you ask me, the names sound much better in Japanese. And that over there,” she pointed to the rest of the island, “is known as the forbidden lands, or the no-man’s land. Students are not allowed to enter. Legends say there are _shinigami_ that roam those lands, so I would stay away if I were you.” 

“ _Shin_ -what?” Harry shouted back.

_“Shinigami!_ Death gods!” Hermione answered. 

Nishino looked over her shoulder and shot Hermione another smile, nodding at her. 

" _What?"_ Harry shouldn't have been surprised but Merlin's beard, were all wizarding schools trying to kill their students? 

The giant storm petrels began to chirp excitedly and Nishino raised a hand. “Prepare for landing!” 

Landing was a much smoother operation than the take off. They landed in a large courtyard in the front of the pagoda. Students wandered about in groups, enjoying the spring weather – their different colored robes creating a vibrant picture. Most of them paused and glanced their way curiously, eager to get their first look at the new foreign Champions.

Three - what looked to be small trees - suddenly zoomed over their heads, appearing and disappearing in less than a blink of the eye.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What was — did anyone else see that just now?”

”The Koldovstoretz team,” Hermione supplied, looking up into the clear skies. “They ride small uprooted trees instead of brooms.”

”That cannot be comfortable,” Harry muttered, imagining what it would feel like to ride a tree. How would one even kick off?

Hermione squinted into the distance, but any sign of the Russian team was long gone. “They must be training for the first event.”

”They’re fast,” Draco noted with a slightly displeased scowl. 

Nishino reached into her pocket and threw a few pieces of bird feed into the air. The storm petrels pecked at them eagerly. 

“Come,” she said. “I will show you to your quarters.”

She led them up to the main entrance. Two large lion-dog creatures with red and gold fur lounged by the entrance, keeping an eye on everyone that entered and exited. They seemed friendly enough in their lazy nature, but their size was not something to be taken lightly. They looked to be around seven feet in height and were approximately the size of three Hagrids. They reminded Hermione a bit of gryphons - peaceful in their behavior but fiercely protective and not to be messed with. 

"These creatures are called _Shishi,"_ Nishino explained. "They guard every entrance and help keep the school safe."

"Every entrance?" Draco asked the same time Hermione asked, "Safe from what exactly?" 

Nishino beamed at both of them. "Yes." Then she turned and waved her hand. Three indoor slippers appeared on the tatami mat in front of them. "No shoes inside please."

Hermione frowned when her question went unanswered but quickly changed into her new indoor shoes. They were quite comfortable. She had to commend the Japanese for their emphasis on cleanliness. 

The inside of the large pagoda was just as much a spectacle as the outside. The floors were sleek and wooden. Large red pillars protruded from the ground holding the structure up. The walls looked like they were made out of some sort of paper and Hermione assumed that they were all heavily enchanted as to withstand damage.

The students gawked as they walked past and Hermione wondered if this was how Harry felt when he first came to Hogwarts. Several of the younger students bowed to Nishino-san as they passed and she returned their greeting in kind. Hermione took it all in, refusing to let even the smallest detail escape her. 

Nishino continued to lead them through several twists and turns - Hermione committed them to mind, already drawing a mental map of the pagoda - until they found themselves back outside on a walkway that traveled through a garden. The garden contained a small lotus pond, a few scattered purple wisteria trees, and a small waterfall in the distance. At the end of the walkway was another smaller pagoda. 

"This way please." 

Inside the smaller pagoda was a common space decorated minimally with two rows of small flat square tables that rose no more than two feet off the ground. Square mats were placed around them indicating them as a seating or dining area. Atop each table sat a set of teapots and teacups. In the far back of the corner against the wall stood a large bookcase, filled neatly with a number of books. 

Two staircases ran up on either side of the tower starting from the entrance, all the way up to the second, third, fourth, and fifth floors. Sliding paper doors lined the walls, indicating more separate rooms. 

Three students wearing bright green robes outlined with bright yellow sat around a small table huddled over a book that laid open between the three of them. They were clearly in the middle of reading when Hermione and them entered. One of the boys – tan, bright red hair, with silver studded earrings, looked over and smiled at them in greeting. 

“E aí.”

The six of them exchanged awkward nods as Hermione discreetly eyed them once over. Judging from their robes, they were from Castelobruxo – the South American school of magic that was believed to be located somewhere deep in the Amazonian forests. 

Hermione met a student from there once, two years ago at the International Potions Championships - a girl her age named Daina. Her, Daina, and this other Beauxbatons student were the only fifth year students to have advanced to the finals, with everyone else being a seventh year. They’d barely interacted, but Hermione still recalled her face somewhat. 

She scanned the Castelobruxo delegates. It appeared that Daina didn’t make it to this tournament. Though, there was something vaguely familiar about the boy who’d greeted them just now... 

“This is the guest tower,” said Nishino. “The Champions of the visiting schools will stay here for the week. The girls are to the left. The boys to the right. You should find your name on the door.”

Her eyes flickered over to Rita Skeeter. “Etto...Skeeter-san? Unfortunately we have not prepared living quarters for you as we were not informed of your arrival ahead of time.”

“How ridiculous,” Rita sniffed. “Where am I to stay then?”

Nishino smiled stiffly. She looked as if she might curse Rita, were Mahoutokoro students not terribly disinclined from the Dark Arts. 

“If you would follow me, I’m sure we can arrange something.” Nishino turned to the trio. “Please rest up. The dinner and Opening Ceremony will be in a few hours.”

“Are we the last ones to arrive?” Draco asked and just from his tone alone, Hermione know he was already planning something. 

“Hai, I believe so.”

Draco shot Harry and Hermione a side glance. “Good to know. Thank you.” 

Nishino bowed. “If you ever need me,” she reached into her robe sleeve and pulled out a pink paper crane, “just tap this with your wand and say the word, _‘Kitesa.’_ It will then appear wherever I am and I will come to you. Alternatively, you can write your questions on a piece of paper and say, _‘Orisoshīn_ Nishino-san. _’_ The paper will then fold itself into a paper crane and appear to me.”

“Much faster than owls.”

Nishino tilted her head in confusion at Hermione’s comment. "Hm?" 

“Uh, never mind.”

Nishino smiled at them. “De wa, mata ne.” She bowed and turned to Rita, gesturing for her to follow her. 

Hermione silently cast a _tempus_ charm. “We have two hours until the opening ceremony. Should we settle in and then gather in someone’s room to go over some material like they are?” She kept her voice low, well aware of the other team sitting no less than twenty feet away. She didn't want to turn to check, but it felt like someone was _staring_ at her.

“‘Mione we just got here!” Harry cried in outrage. “We should explore! Aren’t you curious?”

Hermione hummed. She admitted that she was somewhat excited to explore the grounds of Mahoutokoro and see all that the pagoda had to offer. 

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Potter on this, but he’s right. The sooner we learn the layout of this place, the more we have to our advantage,” said Draco. 

Harry rolled his eyes. That wasn't what he meant at all. But as long as he didn't have to stay cooped up in a room with Draco and Hermione for two hours studying some niche potion making method, he’d take it. 

“Okay, let’s meet back up here in say...ten minutes?” Hermione suggested. 

“Sounds good to me.”

They split ways with Hermione going up the left staircase and Draco and Harry going up the right. 

There were three rooms on the second floor, each with a piece of paper attached to the sliding door. On the piece of paper was a name and a school name underneath in parentheses. 

Hermione scanned over the papers, searching for her name. 

Camila Navarro (Castelobruxo), Mila Aldheid Wolfgang (Durmstrang), and a name written in a language made up of curly letters and dots that Hermione couldn't read. Swahili then. The Uagadou student. 

The third floor had three more doors and three more names. 

One in Chinese, and two in what looked like Russian – the Wuxi and Koldovstoretz representatives respectively. 

Hermione went up another flight and finally spotted her name at the very end of the hall. She made her way over only to linger at the door. Her eyes flickered over to the name of the occupant in the room next to hers. 

_‘So she’s here as well.’_

Hermione shouldn’t be surprised. The girl did beat her at the Potions Championships two years ago after all. It only made sense that she was here too, competing for a victory in the most prestigious of wizarding competitions. 

_‘It looks like we meet again.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone tell me why I decided to set a story in a culture I've never experienced firsthand, and then throw in _eight_ other cultures and languages as well. This was a wonderful idea in my head and a pain to execute lol but I will do my best to boulder on through (that is not the saying but I forgot what it was) 
> 
> If any of y'all find any mistakes at any time during this fic for any culture/language, please please please feel free to kindly inform me in the comments. One goal of this fic is to highlight the different aspects of different cultures, so if I misrepresent something, please let me know!


	3. Don’t Look, Don’t Look, Don’t Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes in italics indicate them being spoken in a foreign language. Context clues should tell you _which_ foreign language.

Harry eyed the blank paper wall in front of them. Was no one going to say it?

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” 

Draco shoved his hands into his robe pockets, unwilling to admit that the team of Hogwarts’ brightest students had been outsmarted by an ancient piece of architecture. 

“I swear we came from this way though,” Hermione frowned. “There was a door...right here.” She gestured at the wall, hoping it would somehow hear her words and prove her right. 

It did not. 

“Maybe your memory’s not as good as you think,” said Draco. 

Hermione made a face. _“_ That’s not possible. _Appare Vestigium.”_

Golden dust sprayed from the tip of her wand, highlighting three sets of footprints trailing from the blank wall in front of them down the hallway they just came from. 

She raised a smug eyebrow. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Well then riddle me this, Granger, if you’re so smart. Where did the door _go_?” 

She shrugged. “Maybe it moved somewhere else. We should retrace our steps. Keep an eye peeled for any doors that weren’t there before.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” said Harry. 

It was the only thing they could do, so they turned and walked back down the long hallway. 

Much like the rest of the school, the hallway was rather empty save for the occasional bonsai tree that decorated the sides. That didn’t mean it was plain by any means. No, it was clear that the Japanese were masters of the minimalistic aesthetic. There was a simple beauty to the school that evoked a certain calmness from inside Hermione even though she was halfway across the world from home. 

Still, they hadn’t come in contact with another Mahoutokoro student for a while now, which _was_ a bit unusual. 

A thought hit Harry, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What time is it?” 

The trio paused. Hermione cast a quick _tempus_ charm. They stared at the tiny red numbers that appeared.

“That...has to be wrong, right?” Harry asked. “Like, time difference is a thing, innit?”

Hermione decided to keep mum about Harry’s flawed logic. They all knew that wasn’t how the charm worked. 

According to the time, they only had twenty minutes before the Opening Ceremony started. Given their current situation, they were cutting it a bit close. 

“We cannot show up late,” said Draco, running a stressed hand through his perfectly styled hair. “All of the judges _and_ the Supreme Mugwump are going to be there. Not to mention the fact that it’s going to be broadcasted _worldwide_ via radio. If we show up late, we might as well forfeit the competition!”

“Okay, there’s no need to have a panic attack,” said Hermione calmly. 

Draco shot an accusing glare at her. “You just had to waste all of our time in the library, didn’t you?” he asked dryly. 

Hermione raised an affronted eyebrow. “It was only twenty minutes.”

“That’s twenty minutes we no longer have,” Draco pointed out. 

“It really wasn’t that long,” said Harry, trying to come to Hermione’s defense. 

“Like you can talk, Potter,” said Draco, rounding on him now. “You led us in a giant circle for half an hour.” 

“Hey, to be _quite_ fair, you were just as lost as I was,” Harry shot back. 

Draco turned away with huff. “I can’t believe that old dingbat put me on a team with you two. What was he thinking?”

“What’s wrong Malfoy?” said Harry. “Already regretting having your father buy your way onto the team?” 

“Uh guys?” Hermione tried to get their attention. 

Draco drew his wand, pointing straight at Harry. “You shut up about my father, Potter. You don’t know anything.” 

“Aww,” Harry cooed, whipping out his wand and falling into a mirrored stance. “Did I offend you, little daddy’s boy?” 

“I’ll show _you_ –” 

“Boys!” 

A quiet whisper broke through their argument. 

“Dare ga son'nani ōgoe de sakende imasu ka?” 

The three of them jumped and turned to see a pale white woman with long black messy hair that covered most of her face emerge from the wall. Her skin glowed an unhealthy translucent white and she wore a long plain flowing shabby white dress that went down to her ankles. The only hint of any color on her were her lips that peeked out from under her hair, red like blood. 

She floated languidly towards them, gliding over air as silent as the night. 

For all his usual bravado, Draco took a step back and pushed Harry in front of him. 

“What in Merlin’s name is that?” he cried. 

“I was trying to warn you two,” Hermione whispered. The three of them slowly retreated as the pale woman continued to approach them until they were back to back with the blank wall from before. 

Now would’ve been a great time for that door to reappear, thought Hermione. 

“Um, hello,” Harry greeted, steadying his wand at her. Let it be noted that Japanese ghosts were a hundred times scarier than the ghosts at Hogwarts. 

“Anata wa dare?” 

The haunting calmness of her voice, almost childlike in its tone, sent a chill down their backs. Harry’s first instinct was to run but she blocked the only exit. 

Hermione eyed the woman with a critical eye. “It’s a _yurei,_ ” she murmured in slow realization. 

“A what?” asked Harry. 

“A Japanese ghost. I read about them in a book.” 

“Whatever it is, just hurry and get rid of it,” Draco hissed. “Tell it to go away or whatever.” 

Hermione silenced him with a stern look before turning back to the floating woman. 

“I don’t think she speaks English.” She gently pushed Harry’s wand down and stepped forward. She dipped into a cautious bow, keeping one eye on the _yurei,_ a nonverbal spell ready in the back of her mind. 

“ _Sorry to disturb you, but it seems we’re a bit lost. We were looking for the Ceremonial Hall. Could you please point us in the right direction?”_

The _yurei_ didn’t respond. The only sounds that could be heard were small gasps of air as she breathed out loudly through her mouth. Hermione waited patiently, her mind whirling through a hundred different possible scenarios as she kept a calm facade on the outside. 

“Maybe she didn’t understand your accent,” Harry whispered unhelpfully. 

“I don’t have an accent,” Hermione grumbled. 

The ghost turned, startling them into defensive positions, only to float calmly down the hallway. When she got halfway she stopped and looked over her shoulder at them. 

“Are we supposed to follow her?” Harry whispered. 

“Absolutely not,” Draco protested. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Hermione reminded them. 

And so the decision was made. 

With an air of wary cautiousness, they followed the _yurei_ through a series of hallways. She was fast, undeterred by the normal laws of physics that hindered the living, and floated through the stairs without a care for her companions, leaving the three of them tripping over themselves to keep up. 

Eventually, Hermione recognized their surroundings and they found themselves in the main hallway near the entrance. The quiet bustling of chatter could be heard in the distance and a small crowd lingered at the mouth of the hallway, waiting to enter the Ceremonial Hall. 

As they approached, the excited hum of chatter died to a still silence. One by one, heads turned their way. Faces paled. Legs staggered back. The crowd parted before them unprompted with wide eyes. 

The _yurei_ stopped, eliciting a few sharp inhales from the students watching. Everyone around them took another back in obvious discomfort. The _yurei_ turned and tilted her head down the hallway, directing them forward. 

Hermione bent her body forward ever so slightly. 

_“Arigatou, er –”_

A flash of white cloth. Another sharp collective gasp. There was a loud ruffle of robes as several wands were drawn. Hermione froze as the _yurei_ appeared inches in from her face. 

For a few tense seconds, no one moved. 

Hermione forced her fear down. She stared straight at the _yurei,_ looking right where the eyes were supposed to be. 

The _yurei_ stilled, seemingly sizing her up. It backed away slowly and several relieved sighs were released. It dipped her head once in what looked like a small bow before turning and rushing towards the closest wall. The students screamed and scattered away like ants as she disappeared out of sight. 

Hermione swallowed the lump that had been stuck in her throat as the whispers started back up. “This way,” she uttered quietly. 

Despite the lack of a ghostly tour guide, the Japanese students still parted away for them, giving them a wide berth. Hermione couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly but she had a pretty good idea what they were all whispering about. 

“Ah! Minna-san! Over here! Yokatta! You guys finally made it. I was worried you’d gotten lost.” 

Hermione relaxed at the sound of Nishino’s voice. The Mahoutokoro student ran up to them, smiling. She shot a look over at their onlookers and they all quickly diverted their eyes, pretending they weren’t all focused on their conversation. 

“The champions are waiting in a different hallway. Follow me.” 

She led them down the hall, past the crowd of silent gaping Japanese students. Hermione wanted to ask her about the _yurei_ , about why everyone was reacting like that, but then they turned into a smaller hallway and her words escaped her. 

Once more, heads turned their way. The looks sent their way were absent of fear but no less unfriendly. Hermione noted absently that they were the last ones to arrive. 

No surprise there. She was just glad to have made it on time. 

“Hoguwartsu will be entering second last in the parade, right before Mahoutokoro. Come.” She led them down the hallway, past the long line of competitors. 

It was hard not to notice the stares. Even Ron would’ve noticed, dense as he was, had he been here. 

“Keep your head high and do not let them rattle you,” Draco whispered sternly. “The competition starts now.”

Hermione was not usually one for putting on airs – that was more of a Slytherin trait – but she found herself standing straighter and her gaze sharpening under the brutal scrutinization. She kept her face blank, a carefully constructed calm exterior that hid the slight nerves within. Drawing confidence from Harry and Draco’s company next to her, she strutted down the hallway with her chin held high, letting their gazes coolly slide off her back like water. 

As they passed, she let her gaze drift indifferently over their competitors, though her mind was as sharp as ever, never lingering too long in her appraisal even though she knew they were doing the same with them. 

First in line was Ilvermorny, the North American school and the previous hosts of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione recognized them by their robes, which were similar to that of Hogwarts except that they were dark blue with a red lining underneath and had the Ilvermorny school crest embroidered over their chest. 

Next was Koldovestoretz, the Russian wizarding school. Their gazes were as icy as their winters with faces made of harsh lines and stern jaws. Despite the warm temperatures, they were still wrapped up in their furs and Hermione wondered if they were using cooling charms or if they were just toughening out the heat for the aesthetic.

After the Russians stood the Castelobruxo team in bright yellows and greens. The same boy from earlier that day in the lounge grinned at them while his teammates were less friendly. They stared at Hermione from the corners of their eyes as they passed. Hermione once more shook off the feeling that the boy had seemed familiar somehow. 

Behind them stood the Uagadou team. They were the most eye-catching with their rich blue robes and golden yellow tunics. They also wore quite a bit of jewelry consisting of multiple necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. One of the girls turned and Hermione had to stop herself from doing a double take. What she’d originally thought was a brown fur scarf, was actually a pet _mongoose_ wrapped around her neck. 

Mind still reeling from the logistics of keeping a mongoose as a pet, Hermione _almost_ missed the Beauxbatons team right behind them, except that wasn’t possible. As soon as she saw the slightest peek of a blue silk uniform in the corner of her eyes, everything inside Hermione screamed at her to look, to confirm with her own eyes that _she_ was there even though Hermione knew she was.

She refused to look.

Her eyes brushed past them like they were invisible even though Hermione couldn’t be more aware of their presence. Her back straightened ever so slightly and her head tilted up a little higher as she passed by, all while trying to maintain a relaxed, unaffected exterior. Her neck twitched with the need to turn and look, but she tamped it down with her willpower. 

The adrenaline of competition buzzed through her veins. 

_‘Play it cool.’_ She repeated Draco’s words in her mind, stopping herself from indulging in this magnetic draw towards the one person in this entire competition Hermione probably cared the most about. 

All because of what happened two years ago. 

A heavy stare bore into the back of her head. She could’ve been imagining it for all she knew, but she indulged in the feeling, willing to delude herself into thinking that she wasn’t alone in this rivalry she’d created on her own. 

_‘Let her stare,’_ she thought. 

Behind the Beauxbatons stood the Chinese wizarding school, Wuxi School of Magic. They wore black and white robes of a style that looked similar to the Mahoutokoro students. Very little was known about them. The Chinese Wizarding government was known to be very secret and thus heavily regulated any information that circulated. This was their first year participating in the tournament and Hermione made a note to keep an extra eye on them. 

Behind them stood the Durmstrang delegation dressed up in furs much like their Russian counterparts. Famous for their fascination with the dark arts, they were probably one of the more dangerous teams in the competition. One of the boys stared unabashedly at her as she passed unlike everyone else who resorted to more subtle means and Hermione immediately recognized him to be Viktor Krum, Ron’s ultimate Quidditch idol. 

What were the odds? Her mind flashed back to the one of the many Viktor Krum gushing sessions she had to endure. She bit back a smile and made a note to get his autograph for Ron after this competition was over. 

And finally, at the very end of this long line of schools, was the Japanese school of wizardry and witchcraft, the host of this year’s Triwizard Tournament, the Mahoutokoro team. Hermione noted the colors of their robes - all as golden as the sun. _Kudans_ , also known as the highest honor a Mahoutokoro student could reach. Hermione wasn't surprised. They were the best of the best here.

Nishino stopped and greeted the Japanese champions briefly before turning to them. 

“The opening ceremony will begin shortly now that you are here. They will announce the schools one by one. When your school is called, walk through that door there and you may proceed with your entrance performance.”

“Entrance performance?” Hermione repeated, wondering if there had been a translation error.

“Hai.” Nishino tilted her head. “Each school is given an opportunity to make an entrance as a first impression to the judges who will be present tonight. A sneak peek if you will.” She paused eyeing the alarmed faces on the trio. “Etto, were you not informed?”

“No,” Hermione said through half-gritted teeth. “We weren’t.” She shot Harry a panicked look. “Dumbledore never mentioned anything.”

“That crazy old shriveled walnut,” Draco muttered. “He probably forgot. It’s long time he retired if you ask me.”

“Good thing no one did,” said Harry. 

Draco opened his mouth to respond but Hermione silenced them both with a look. The last thing they needed now was for another argument to break out. 

“I’m sure you will come up with something,” Nishino said encouragingly. “As the previous winners of this tournament, Hogwarts will be entering second to last, right before the host school, so you have some time. Ganbare!” 

* * *

  
  
Fleur scanned the hallway of champions from other schools. None of them really interested her. 

Sure there was the Egyptian girl with killer eyeliner and a pet mongoose wrapped around her neck, as well as the Chinese team – it was their first time participating in the tournament so they were a bit of a wild card – but besides the momentary spark of interest, no one really captured her attention. 

Out of everyone currently present, the Mahoutokoro team posed the biggest threat, given their overall academic prowess, historical achievements in the tournament, and of course, home advantage. 

But Fleur wasn’t too worried about them either. The Triwizard Cup was as good as hers. She’d been preparing for this moment her entire life. _Quite literally._ The only team that could’ve given her a run for her money – 

_“Fleur, are you listening?”_

“Hm?” Fleur tore her gaze away from where she’d been scanning the crowd somewhat absentmindedly and turned towards her teammate Adelise LaRue. 

Adelise grinned amusedly at her. She was always smiling, it seemed. Fleur couldn’t recall a single moment where she wasn’t and she’d been classmates with her for seven years.

_“You’ve been rather restless ever since we’ve arrived. I suppose it’s nice to see that even you are capable of getting nervous like the rest of us.”_

Fleur hummed through a thin smile. She didn’t bother correcting Adelise - she wasn’t _nervous_ \- as her thoughts drifted back to the previous topic, her eyes scanning through her competitors once more. None of these schools mattered. Not to her. There was one school though – one school that everyone was aiming to beat. 

The reigning champions of the past _six_ Triwizard Tournaments. 

Just the thought of them winning their seventh boiled Fleur’s blood with competitiveness. Over her dead body. 

_“Do you think they’re not coming this year?”_ Adelise asked curiously, noting the lack of presence from said team. She wasn’t the only one who’d noticed either. _Everyone_ was thinking it – from the moment they entered the champion’s waiting hall, their absence was noted, the question lingering in the back of their minds as their eyes kept a subtle watch of the entrance. The longer they didn’t show, the heavier the question hung over their heads. 

_“I doubt it,”_ Matheo Badelair, Fleur’s other teammate said. _“They would have to be crazy to give up their chance at a seven-win streak like that. Besides, I saw their names on the rooms. They’re definitely going to be here.”_

Fleur immediately flashed back to the name of the occupant in the room next to hers. 

What were the odds?

Fleur always did know they would meet again, though. Something about it just felt...inevitable. 

_“True,”_ said Adelise. _“Though I suppose it doesn’t really matter if they show or not. We’re going to win anyway, isn’t that right?”_ Adelise elbowed Fleur, beaming up at her. 

_“Yes, of course,”_ Fleur murmured. 

_“Still,”_ Matheo grinned, running a hand through his handsomely tousled hair. _“Imagine how much sweeter our victory would be if we were able to snatch the title from right under their noses. Think of all the disappointed Britons. There’s nothing that makes me happier than the thought of angry little Britons running around.”_

Fleur hummed distractedly in agreement. Matheo and Adelise glanced at each other before fixing their gaze on Fleur. 

_“Are you okay? You’ve been rather distracted ever since we arrived. Is something bothering you?”_ Matheo asked. 

_“Of course not,_ ” Fleur denied firmly, dispersing any doubts that she was anything but one hundred percent focused. What a ridiculous notion. 

_“You sure?”_ Adelise asked carefully. _“Because we need you to be on your A game.”_

Fleur’s eyes narrowed. _“Yes, I’m-”_

She was cut off as the constant chattering that had filled the space suddenly quieted. People parted at the end of a hallway. Fleur craned her neck to see, wondering who it was. Had the Supreme Mugwump arrived? 

Quiet murmurs refilled the silence, but this time much more cautiously than before. 

Eventually, the crowd parted in front of them, revealing none other than the team everyone had been waiting for. 

Eyes diverted. Conversations resumed in a quiet whisper – a mere farce that allowed them to observe their biggest competitors without being too obvious about it. 

Fleur didn’t bother with any of that. She stared intently and unwaveringly, blue eyes flashing with intensity. 

Her gaze flew past the two boys – they were as uninteresting as the rest of them – to the girl, taking in her appearance and cataloguing what had changed in the two years they hadn’t seen each other and what hadn’t with hungry eyes. 

Ever since she saw the girl’s name on the door next to hers, Fleur had been thinking about this moment, the moment of their reunion. Her skin prickled with the thought. 

She watched, waiting...waiting for their eyes to meet. 

_Acknowledge me as I have acknowledged you._

Hermione passed by without a glance. Fleur scoffed inwardly, a bit impressed to be honest. She stared hard into the back of Hermione’s head. 

Oh, it was on. 

By the time this tournament was over, Fleur would be standing on the podium holding the cup and Hermione would have no choice but to acknowledge her. 

  
  



	4. Bang Bang (Into the Room)

Muted cheers thundered through paper walls, shaking the floors. Every head in the hallway perked up, each eyeing the closed doors with hidden want, taken aback by the sheer noise. 

Hermione took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart. It was happening. It was _really_ happening. 

A woman’s voice boomed over the noisy clamor. Triumphant words carried through to awaiting ears. More cheers welcomed the Supreme Mugwump. Then finally– 

“ _Please welcome our first team. All the way from North America, it’s Ilvermorny!”_

The doors slid open and the sound of screaming roared to life, deafening the ears. The North American team glanced at each other before walking through side by side, faces alight with wonder. Craning her neck, Hermione caught a brief glimpse of an elaborately gold decorated room before the doors closed behind them. Muffled explosions sounded from the other side as the flash of fireworks lit up the walls repeatedly, the cheering growing louder and louder, not to be outdone by the celebrational pops. 

Hermione turned towards her team, eyebrows furrowed in grim concentration. “We have approximately five minutes to figure something out before it’s our turn.”

She glanced between the two boys, hoping that someone had an idea. 

“We could sing the school song,” Harry suggested with a shrug.

Hermione and Draco exchanged indiscreet looks before settling their gazes on him. 

“What?” asked Harry. 

They answered at the same time. 

“ I’m sorry Harry, but that song is absolutely _dreadful_ – ”

“ – Potter, that is just _so_ uncool.” 

Harry wrinkled his nose at the unified attack. 

“I like it,” he mumbled under his breath, wondering when did Hermione and Malfoy become such good mates. 

Draco bit down a disappointed sigh. “Granger, please tell me you actually have a competent idea.” 

_“Next, please welcome, our friends from Russia, the Koldovstoretz team!”_ The doors slid open and the sound of cheering roared to life before dying back down again. 

“Fine,” said Harry. No school song then. “What if we...summoned our patronuses and walked out with them?” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Hermione mused.

They both looked towards Draco for his input. He stayed silent, looking rigidly uncomfortable with his arms crossed across his chest in an almost defensive way. 

There was a beat of awkward silence. 

“Right,” Harry muttered. “Sorry.”

“I don’t want your pity,” spat Draco, though it lacked his usual sharpness. 

“I wasn’t – I didn’t –”

“Save it, Potter.”

Harry held back a resigned sigh, looking to Hermione for help. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a bad idea Harry. In fact…”

_“Up next, we have a team all the way from the Amazons of Brazil, it’s Castelobruxo!”_

Hermione’s gaze flickered up to Harry. “I’m going to need this.” She reached up. 

“What– ouch!” He palmed the back of his head, eyeing the strands of his hair now in her grasp. “Geezus, ‘Mione. A warning next time?”

His complaints fell upon deaf ears as she muttered quiet enchantments under her breath into her fist. She was unstoppable now that she was in the thralls of a burgeoning idea. 

“I cannot believe I’m about to say this, but-” Her eyes flashed with an excited glint and Harry knew they were really in for it this time. “-you told Ron that you brought the stuff Fred and George gave you?”

Harry stared at her, wondering if he’d somehow misheard. “Hermione, you cannot be serious.” 

Oh but she was. All he got in response was that nervous giddy smile of hers that usually meant she was about to suggest something really badass and completely against the rules. Rule-breaking Hermione was the best type of Hermione after all. 

Harry could already imagine the chaos that was about to become their entrance. They were definitely going to give the judges something to remember, that was for sure.

“No,” Draco protested, catching on to their intentions. “I will not be caught dead using Weasley products.” 

_“Please welcome our next team. From Uganda, it’s Team Uagdaou!”_

There was a roar, a _literal_ cheetah roar, accompanied by the loud toot of an elephant and the bark of a jackal as the entire Ugandan team transformed into animals and rushed through the doors in a frenzy, the mongoose riding atop of the midnight colored jackal. 

Hermione stared at them in disbelief. They were _all_ animagi? She shot Harry a discreet look, slightly shaking her head. 

Draco turned back towards them, a look of frustration on his face. “Fuck it. What do you have? We’ll use it all.”

Harry paused, a look of amused disbelief on his face. “Uh, are you sure?” 

“Am I sure?” Draco repeated, half scoffing. “Do I look like I’m here to lose?” 

Hermione broke into a small chuckle as Harry smirked at Draco’s reply. They were finally all on the same page for once. The trio exchanged knowing glances, nodding at each other in affirmation. All right then. They were doing this. Harry raised his wand. 

_“Accio!”_

Draco turned towards Hermione as they waited for the supplies to arrive. It was almost their turn now, so every second was precious. “What’s the plan, Granger? Walk us through.” 

Hermione opened her mouth– 

_“Now, please join me in welcoming the team from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!”_

_“Are you two ready?”_

Despite the loudness of the ambience, Hermione still picked up the familiar melodic lilt of _her_ voice, well aware of her presence behind her. She tuned it out and focused on the boys in front of her. 

“Remember in our fifth year when Fred and George left school…” 

* * *

Fleur strutted onto the crowded stage where the other champions stood waiting for the last of them to enter. She settled in next to Adelise, feeling the other girl reach up and squeeze her wrist very lightly in acknowledgement of their perfectly executed entrance just now. Weeks of practicing had paid off and Fleur was quite confident that they managed to leave a decent impression on the judges. They didn’t come to play games and the sooner everyone else knew that, the better. 

She held her head high, well aware of all the eyes trained on her even as the next school entered, unwilling to appear affected by the attention in any way. And in a way, she wasn’t. Or at least, not anymore. Not like she used to be. It’d taken several bitter years as she adjusted to this blood perk of hers before she’d finally settled on indifferent acceptance. Some things just weren’t meant to be controlled. 

Surrounded by this many strangers, her thrall was like a puppy, eager to roam and play, enticing any unsuspecting teenager that was available into her sphere of influence. She tried to reel it in, but it didn’t seem to help at all. She could feel it rebelling against her, wanting to break free even more.

In the end, all she could do was ignore it and everyone else as she swept her gaze across the room, taking in her surroundings for the first time without the distraction of a performance occupying her focus. 

The Mahoutokoro Ceremonial Hall was a large rectangular room with impossibly high ceilings supported by two rows of long red columns with golden bases and golden dragons that spiraled upwards. A dark red carpet had been laid out in the middle as a walkway for the champions. It led them up to this slightly raised platform near the end of the Ceremonial Hall. 

At the very end of the Ceremonial Hall, behind where she currently stood, was a large golden statue of a dragon that protruded from the wall with round golden eyes that overlooked the entire hall. Two staircases led up the wall to its mouth where the Headmistress of Mahoutokoro and the distinguished guests sat in a palanquin-like seating area. 

Five long tables ran down the hall, one for each of the five elemental Clans - kaze (wind), sui (water), tsuchi (earth), ka (fire), and sora (void) – that the students chose to join at the end of their first year. 

Students knelt on either side of the tables, facing the middle. It was clear from the colors of their robes that they sat based on some type of merit system. The Clan leader, usually a golden robed student, sat at the head of the table, next to the other golden robes and higher ranked students, while the younger, pink robed students sat near the back and off to the side. 

The student robes were not the only things of color that added to this otherwise mostly red and golden room. Paper lanterns of all different colors and sizes littered the ceiling like fluttering candle lights. Cherry blossoms bloomed alongside the wall, filling the air with a light floral fragrance. Paper carps painted with different shades of blue, red, orange, and purple drifted through the air lazily, gently bumping into the students before moving on. 

Two large decorational kimonos were pinned to the walls on either side of the hall. A large fan hung over the Champion’s entrance with a single Japanese word calligraphed over it. The fan was flanked on either side with scrolls that displayed the schools’ values in beautifully written calligraphy for all to see. 

The hall was so well decorated, one could’ve easily gotten lost in the festive mood if they were careless, or of a more easily distracted mind, but Fleur was too focused to be swept away by all the trivialities. 

Like the rest of the champions, Fleur stood facing the door where they entered. While Adelise and Matheo both snuck glances over their shoulders, eager to catch a glimpse of the all powerful Supreme Mugwump, Fleur kept her focus firmly on the sliding doors. 

The Wuxi and Durmstrang entrances went by with much of it being seen and immediately forgotten by Fleur. The Chinese team had a pair of brother-sister twins, which attracted Adelise’s attention enough for her to make a quiet comment about it under her breath, but Fleur didn’t bat an eyelash at the perceived threat of their teamwork. 

Even Viktor Krum didn’t stand out from the rest of the competition besides for his lack of hair. His talent with a broom would only aid him in the first event at most. Besides that, he was no better than the rest of them, internationally famed Quidditch player or not. 

After the Durmstrang representatives settled onto the platform, with Fleur scooching over to make more room, a quiet hush fell over the room and all eyes, for the first time since Fleur emerged, turned towards the closed sliding doors. 

_‘Finally.’_

Fleur pushed down her anticipation, but it thrummed like a live current of energy running through her body. When Beaxubatons had been announced, Team Hogwarts had still been in the midst of discussion. 

Fleur thought it was rather careless, maybe even egotistical of them not to have prepared something beforehand. Were they looking down on the rest of them by taking this so lightly? Perhaps this Hogwarts team was not like the ones in past – not winning material. 

Fleur had her doubts about whether or not they could’ve pulled something together last minute but, reluctant as she was to admit it, she also wasn’t willing to take her chances so lightly wherever _she_ was concerned. 

_“Now, please join me in welcoming to the hall, the former champions of the Triwizard Tournament for the past six times in a row, the team from Scotland, it’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”_

Breaths hitched and bodies leaned forward, as silver mist seeped through the cracks in the doors, covering the red carpet with a fog-like effect. 

Fleur discerned the spell immediately. _‘The patronus charm. Non-corporeal. Clever.’_

The doors slid open revealing the three Hogwarts students. Harry Potter, son of the parents who defeated He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, stood in the middle leading the team. To his left stood Draco Malfoy, the only son of one of the few remaining pureblooded families in Europe. And to his right, stood a witch whose name and talents had reached nearly every pair of ears in this room. 

Fleur zeroed in on her, unable to look away. And she was not the only one. 

The trio stepped onto the carpet and the silver mist curled around their feet, enveloping their bodies in a mystical glow. 

Hermione raised a fist to her lips and blew into them, unfurling her fingers into a palm, almost like she was blowing a kiss. Strands of hair dispersed into the air, and just before they touched the ground, they transformed. 

Four animals appeared from thin air. 

A lion. A badger. A snake. And an eagle. 

The proud mascots of Hogwarts. 

They darted amongst the mist, standing beside the trio like guardian animals, challenging any and all who dared cross them. 

Fleur almost raised an eyebrow, unable to keep the surprise from showing on her face. 

That was no simple feat of transfiguration magic just now. And it was done so effortlessly and with such nonchalance, Fleur wondered if anyone besides her even caught onto the absolute brilliance of what had just occurred. 

It was a fairly simple entrance, but elegant in execution. Certainly beyond Fleur’s expectations for such short notice. And as her mind sang begrudging praises for her competitors, the first bang went off. 

  
  
  


* * *

What happened next, in the great Ceremonial Hall of Mahoutokoro, could only at _best_ be described as a glorious extravaganza of light, a symphony of excitement and spontaneity, a masterpiece of life’s highest joys! 

At _worst_ it was mayhem descended, pandemonium ensued, and chaos reigned. 

The first few Wildfire Whiz-bangs were welcomed with cheer. The Japanese loved their fireworks, so these famous Weasley gimmicks were right up their alley. They popped and fizzled, highlighting the Hogwarts entrance with a little extra pizazz that earned them a few wondrous gasps and excited smiles. 

And then…

And then Merlin knows what happened. 

More and more Whiz-bangs erupted, shooting up the ceiling, and bouncing off the hard surfaces, flying every this way and that. Paper lanterns caught on fire and rained down upon the poor unsuspecting underclassmen. The giant fan that hung over the entrance fell with a crash, immediately catching on fire as it hit the floor. The decorational kimonos tore from their fixtures on the walls and were flung across the room, shredding in half. Petals of pink cherry blossoms littered the entire room like shredded pieces of paper. 

The younger students ran out of their seats - some spurred on by the chaos, chasing after these little balls of light in delight; others to escape from getting hit in fear for their lives. 

The professors, or Sensei’s as they were called here, remained perfectly calm, barely even blinking an eye at the havoc, though some wore stern frowns heavy with disapproval and lined with rigid wrinkles. 

Fleur had to wonder how they did it. If this were Beauxbatons, all of the professors would be up and shouting, trying to get the situation under control. 

She was forced to duck as one those Whiz-Bangs shot over her head, hitting another champion that was not so lucky. Behind her, one of the Americans muttered, “Dammit. Their fireworks are better than ours.” 

As she straightened, she caught sight of the Hogwarts trio, standing in the middle of the chaos, watching as this all went down. 

Well, this was certainly one way to make an entrance. 

  
  
  


* * *

“This was a mistake.” 

If Mahoutokoro wasn’t so heavily enchanted, Draco would’ve apparated out of there and never looked back, Triwizard Tournament or not. What was his father going to say about this? Draco didn’t think he’d live long enough to find out. 

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips. “I think it’s going rather well.” 

Hermione thought it was too soon to pass judgement. If she knew anything about the Weasley twins, it was that there were no limits for chaos whenever they were involved. And lo and behold. 

The trio watched helplessly as the Whiz-Bangs congregated over their heads, creating one massive fireball that took up nearly half the room. It pulsed and spun until it morphed into the shape of a large phoenix with golden eyes. It released a loud, threatening squawk before swooping towards the palanquin full of very, _very,_ important people. 

“I forgot about that part,” Harry muttered, realizing he’d spoken too soon. “Wasn’t it a dragon before?” 

Draco for once was at a loss for words, too busy calculating the likelihood of them getting thrown into Azkaban for attacking the Supreme Mugwump at a diplomatic international tournament. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione’s wand shoot up just as the phoenix crashed into an invisible barrier, centimeters from Supreme Mugwump’s face. The flames dispersed wildly, setting the rest of the palanquin on fire. 

“Whoops,” Hermione muttered, quickly banishing the flames away. 

“Great thinking, Granger,” Draco said sarcastically. “Let’s set the judges on fire. Maybe they’ll like us more.” 

“Well it’s not like they were in any real trouble,” Hermione shot back. She was sure the Supreme Mugwump could have handled a prank item or two by himself. Honestly, why weren’t they doing anything to remedy this in the first place? If they wanted to, they could have fixed this situation within seconds. 

An answer came to mind. 

“We need to fix this.”

“What?” Harry and Draco asked as they both jumped out of the way from a flying Whiz-bang. 

“They’re waiting for _us_ to fix this. Now’s our chance to impress them.”

“Okay,” said Harry very slowly. “...How do we do that?” 

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, the boys were just so clueless sometimes. 

She raised her wand and slowly turned in a circle, vanquishing each of the Whiz-bangs and fires one by one. Eventually, Harry and Draco caught on to what she was doing and jumped in to help, the both of them keeping a constant muttering of _‘Evanesco’_ under their breaths. 

Gradually, bit by bit, meter by meter, the chaos evened out and students settled back into their seats. There was an awkward silence as everyone took in the terrible aftermath with horror. The decorations had been wrecked to an unrecognizable state. Ancient school relics laid scattered on the ground, half burnt and torn apart. 

The Headmistress of Mahoutokoro leaned forward in the palanquin, getting ready to stand up for the first time since this ceremony started.

Earlier, she’d abstained from interfering as per the Supreme Mugwump’s request, and watched as the Hogwarts team wrecked her beloved hall. Now that the main cause of destruction had been eliminated, she would take it upon herself to restore the room. Everything needed to be exactly as it was before and only she knew where everything went. She was already halfway out of her seat when a movement down below caught her eye. 

With a deep breath, Hermione waved her wand through the air, her eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration. Slowly, the decorations restored themselves back to their original states – That scroll went there. That, there. The bamboo plants were next to the entrance. The kimonos, here and here. The hall watched with stunned silence as a whirlwind blew across the hall, putting everything back together and back in its place. 

After she was done, Hermione did a double check to make sure everything was in its rightful place and nodded to herself in satisfaction. That should do it. Hopefully her memory served her right. 

Unseen by her, the Headmistress leaned back into her seat with muted shock. She scanned the room with strict appraisal, fueled by the disbelief running through her veins, but found nothing to be faulted. Everything was as it had been before, not a petal out of place. 

And all of it was done without a single word. 

She was not the only one sitting up in the palanquin who noticed this incredible feat either. The Supreme Mugwump who had remained perfectly calm during the entire fiasco and barely blinked an eye at the chaos, raised a single eyebrow ever so subtly in intrigue as he took in the young girl from Hogwarts. With all the attention on the three champions in the middle of the room, no one noticed him leaning down to whisper a question to his companion. 

“Hermione Granger,” replied his companion, reliable as always. “Hogwarts student. Commonly referred to as the brightest witch of her age. Dumbledore boasts highly of her and her achievements. He says Hogwarts is definitely going to win again this year.” 

The Supreme Mugwump grinned to himself at the thought of his predecessor. That old dingbat. One could never take him too seriously. Still…Hermione Granger was it _?_

He would remember her. 

* * *

“I think that went rather well,” Harry commented as they shuffled their way towards the platform, eager to get out of the spotlight. 

“That could’ve gone worse,” Hermione supposed. Not by much though. 

“Worse?” Draco hissed. “How could that have gone worse? We just _attacked_ the Supreme Mugwump.” 

“Almost,” Hermione corrected. “Almost attacked.” 

“You are not helping your case.”

The Champions platform, which now held twenty four people, was starting to grow a little crowded. There was a bit of shuffling around and some minor bumping into each other as the Hogwarts team scooted into place. 

“Sorry,” Hermione apologized absentmindedly as she was pushed into the person next to her. 

_“It’s alright.”_

Hermione startled at the French, looking up directly into electric blue eyes. She leaned away as subtly as she could, giving a stiff nod in acknowledgement before both of them diverted their attention towards the front, just in time to catch the Mahoutokoro entrance. 

It went, as expected, much smoother than the Hogwarts one, and soon they were stepping onto the platform. There was some more shuffling and Hermione and Fleur found themselves bumping into each other again. 

“Sorry.”

“Désolée.”

They avoided looking at each other, only muttering apologies whenever they would accidentally brush up against each other. It was extremely awkward and Hermione wondered if it was just her or if Fleur felt the same tension brewing between them. She was probably just overthinking things. 

Luckily, she didn’t have to dwell on it for too long as all of the Mahoutokoro students suddenly turned ninety degrees to kneel towards the front. Taking the cue, the Champions turned around on the platform. Up on the palanquin, the headmistress of Mahoutokoro stood up, stepping forward to address the crowd. 

Headmistress Ueno was a rather tall lady, a fact that was highlighted by the long robes of her royal purple kimono. It shimmered with her every breath and it took Hermione a second to realize that it wasn’t just a trick of the light. The wisteria flowers that decorated her robe bloomed and closed in constant movement while loose purple petals danced across the silk material as if being carried by a light breeze. 

Her hair was up in an immaculate updo that consisted of wings on the side and a large topknot that were kept together in a perfect delicate balance by a single golden pin. Despite the complicated hairdo, there wasn’t a single strand out of place. 

It was hard to tell how old she was. With Dumbledore, anyone would have declared him old with a single look. With Headmistress Ueno, she could’ve fallen anywhere between fifty and eighty years old, though the wrinkles around her eyes and the gracefulness with which she carried herself betrayed her experience. 

Her eyes, dark as onyx, were stern and held an intense sort of energy. As she swept her gaze across the hall, it was as if a silencing charm had been cast with the way silence fell upon them so absolutely. There was a brief moment where Hermione thought the headmistress had glanced her way, eyeing her curiously, but she brushed it off as mere coincidence. 

When Ueno spoke, her voice was silvery, clear like the waters that surrounded the island. To Hermione’s surprise, she addressed them in fluent English. 

“Welcome! Champions! To Mahoutokoro. I am the headmistress. You may call me Ueno-kochou. I hope you enjoy your stay here with us for these next four weeks as you face the hardest challenges you will have ever faced in your entire lives. Minna-san, let us applaud them for having made it this far.” 

The crowd broke out into a controlled applause. As it died down, headmistress Ueno’s smile disappeared, and the mood shifted as she swept her stony gaze over the champions. 

“Stand proud and look around,” she instructed them. 

Hermione threw a cursory glance to her right, purposefully ignoring Fleur on her left. 

“Remember the faces of your peers,” said headmistress Ueno. “They stand with you now, but who knows if they will stand with you at the end.”

Hermione’s eyes widened with horror. Were they going to _die?_

“This Tournament is a gruesome one. It is not for the lighthearted or the weak minded and that is why you have been chosen out of hundreds of your peers. You will face seven different tasks, each one specifically designed to push you past your limits and break your mentality in ways you cannot imagine, all crammed into four tortuous weeks. _”_

Ueno paused, letting the severity of her words sink in. 

“Some of you will break,” she said casually. “You will cry and you will beg for someone else to take your place. Some of you…” she swept her gaze over them once more, “may even choose to leave your team.”

Silence hung over them, heavy and overbearing. The idea of abdicating had never even crossed their minds. Until now. Now it sat, a small seed, buried deep in their minds even among the most confident of the lot. 

“You think it unlikely now, but it has happened before and it may just happen to you. You may find yourself turning your back on your friends when they need you the most. You may find yourself questioning every single life decision that led you here as you choose to let down everyone who ever believed in you, who supported you...all because the pressure grew to be too much.” 

Behind Hermione, someone gulped nervously. She was empathetic. Her own throat was starting to dry. 

“So ask yourselves, champions, if you are ready.” Ueno raised a single cutting eyebrow that could have struck doubt into even the surest of hearts. “Because if you’re not, then perhaps you should just save us the trouble now. The exit is that way.” The doors which they'd just come through slid back open, taunting them. 

She waited. 

No one moved. 

A smile curled onto her lips. “Good.”

She waved her wand through the air and a column of fire erupted in front of her. It died away, revealing a beautiful wooden cup with blue white flames. Hermione sucked in a breath. 

“The Goblet of Fire,” Draco murmured out in awe. 

“The winner of the Triwizard Tournament will be awarded fame, glory, money, and of course, this. The Goblet of Fire.” She tapped her wand on the cup and the blue flames brightened in reaction. 

Hermione could practically feel the greed of the competitors around her prickling her skin. 

“But first, in order to get there…” 

Ueno waved her wand. Letters appeared before her in shimmering blue. A list of seven items. 

_Test of Endurance_

_Test of Ability_

_Test of Cooperation_

_Test of Resourcefulness_

_Test of Knowledge_

_Test of Adaptability_

_Test of Courage_

“As I said before, the Triwizard Tournament will consist of seven tasks, three mandated by tradition, three chosen by the host school, and one final event.” She waved her wand again, revealing, for the first time ever, the task names. 

The Champions all leaned forward, eager to get a good look. 

_The Broom Race_

_The Duel Cup_

_Alliance_

_Scavenger_

_The Spell-ing Bee_

_Tsukuyomi’s Treasure_

_Kimodameshi_

Out of the seven events listed, the Broom Race, the Duel Cup, and the Spell-ing Bee were the three traditionally mandated tasks and everyone knew what to expect of them. The rest were a complete mystery to everyone. 

“Who’s Tsukuyomi?” Harry whispered. “And what does that last one say?” 

“I don’t know.” She would have to hit the library later. “But Kimodameshi literally means a test of courage.” 

“Oh,” said Harry unimpressed. “Well that tells us everything we need to know.” 

“As you all have already been informed, the first task of the tournament is none other than–” Ueno dropped her voice into a whisper and waved her hand, the letters rearranging into an image of a broomstick.“ – The ever beloved Broom Race.” 

Cheers erupted as she waved her hand again and the image rearranged into a map of Japan.

“In two days time, you will be portkeyed to Sapporo which resides in Northern Japan here.” She gestured over the map with an open palm, indicating where Sapporo was. “Your goal,” she said, tracing a path diagonally down the island of Japan, “is to get to here, Kyoto City.” 

Quiet murmurs broke out amongst the students. They were obviously shocked at the announcement but the champions remained clueless. 

Ueno’s lips curled into a sly grin. “The distance is approximately one thousand four hundred kilometers.”

There was a beat of silence. 

A silent scoff. A half chuckle in disbelief.

The murmuring from before made sense now. 

“How many miles is that?” Hermione overheard one of the American girls asking her teammate. "

“The average time it would take to get there by broom is two days including rests in between. You will complete the journey in one,” said Ueno. 

There was another scoff of disbelief and Hermione wondered if they really _weren’t_ trying to kill them after all. 

“You have two days to plan out your route. But for now…”

Ueno suddenly broke out into a teasing smile that reminded Hermione very markedly of Dumbledore. The effect was like being smacked in the face.

“It’s time to eat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, I tend to jump POVs like I’m playing competitive hopscotch. Apparently I enjoy having the omniscient viewpoint of a young naive meddling god in my story telling. 
> 
> Also, I told a few of you we would delve into Fleurmione's past this chapter. I lied evidently. That will happen next chapter and we'll finally finish up day one. 
> 
> ( _This chapter was sponsored by Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes._ )


	5. Green Tea, Black Tea, Spilled Tea

Dinner was a perfectly fun and awkward affair. 

While the Ceremonial Hall was filled with excited squabbles, the pouring of tea nonstop in both capacities of the phrase as Mahoutokoro students eagerly discussed their opinions of the schools’ entrances and traded bets over small porcelain cups of hojicha (roasted green tea) – Hogwarts being the name most whispered between lips – there was one table that sat in complete silence as if sealed off in a bubble from the rest of them. 

In order to promote international magical cooperation between the schools and to support everlasting friendships being built amongst the champions, the organizers of the feast had placed them all at a single table near the front of the hall, hoping to give them a chance to mingle and bond over their prospective mildly life-threatening experiences in the upcoming month. 

The theory was great. In practice, it was slightly lacking. 

Most of them were more preoccupied with winning the tournament than making friends at the moment, especially with the daunting task of the Broom Race looming over their heads like the sword of Damocles silencing their mouths but not their minds. 

And to make things just slightly more unbearable for Hermione, the person that happened to sit in the seat across from her at the table was none other than Fleur Delacour, the one competitor she had history with. 

They met gazes silently, briefly acknowledging each other’s existence, before Hermione ducked her head, pretending to be absolutely taken by the array of ethnic dishes laid out beautifully before her. If by the time the hour was over and Hermione had yet to glance up even once, well then that was just a coincidence. 

It wasn’t that she was intimidated by Fleur. Far from it truthfully. It was the forced politeness between them that was really grating on her and to a certain point, confused her. There were just too many unknowns that defined their relationship. 

There was no shortage of admiration Hermione felt for the other girl. She’d seen Fleur’s brilliance first hand. It was hard not to be impressed. And Hermione could tell Fleur felt the same way about her to an extent. But this constant acknowledging of the other without _actually_ acknowledging each other that had now become the norm of their interactions was...well it was hard to describe. 

Next to her, Harry shifted awkwardly, unaccustomed to kneeling for so long and loudly banged his knee into the table, sending the nearest teacups teetering over.

Hermione shot her hand out just in time, catching the spilled tea midair and levitating it back into the cups, unaware of the eyes that watched her with rapt interest throughout the table. 

“Sorry. My bad.” Harry’s hasty apology was swallowed by the silence as Draco closed his eyes in embarrassment, barely holding back his face palm. 

Despite the abundance of food, the champions had yet to pick up their chopsticks and eat. Sensing the hesitation, one of the girls on the Mahoutokoro team spoke up. 

She had long midnight black hair and wispy bangs that framed her thin face. The color of her eyes, which shined an exceptionally light brown hazel, made Hermione pause in thought. The way she grinned, crooked with mischief, the right corner of her lips curled higher than the left, reminded Hermione all too much of the Weasley twins. 

“Minna-san, konnichiwa!” she greeted everyone in a bubbly tone. “My name is Sakai Reina. Feel free to call me Reina-chan,” she beamed, her eyes smiling along like two crescent moons. “These two here are A-chan and Kyo-kun. Go on. Introduce yourselves.” 

Egged on by her impossible to refuse personality, her two teammates bowed their heads forward, clearly more inclined towards proper formality than their friend. 

“Hajimemashite. Himekawa Ayumi to iimasu. Yoroshiku oneigaishimasu.” Like Reina, Ayumi had long dark hair that fell past her shoulders. Side bangs swept across her face, ending just before her eyebrows. The way she spoke, deep and confident, indicated a calmer personality than Reina’s and her movements, from the way she sat to the way she lifted her tea cup, radiated an air of practiced elegance. 

“Hajimemashite. Ishihara Kyosuke desu. Yoroshiku.” Kyosuke hadn’t quite grown out of his baby face, with his round cheeks that were full of youth and bright doe-like eyes. His body was tall and lanky, giving him the impression of someone who had yet to fully grow into his body. His hair was dyed a bright pink and slightly curled, giving Hermione the impression of one of those J-pop muggle idols that she came across during her research of Japanese culture over the summer. The image was only further cemented by his small silver hooped earrings. 

"We hope you enjoy your stay here at our home,” said Kyosuke with a small polite smile. He held his palm out over the table. “Please, enjoy the food. The chefs have prepared a variety of their best dishes."

“Hai! Everyone please help yourselves. No need to be shy,” said Reina, grabbing her chopsticks. “Itadakimasu!” she exclaimed before digging in. 

Her two teammates followed suit, albeit much more calmly, as they picked up their chopsticks and put their palms together. “Itadakimasu.” 

The other champions followed their examples a little clumsily and picked up their chopsticks, some looking more lost than others on how to use them. 

Hermione scanned the array of dishes before her, recognizing most of them from her exhaustive summer research. She’d convinced her parents to take her to several Japanese restaurants so she would know what to expect cuisine wise. 

The table offered an assortment of the freshest sashimi and sushi including salmon, tuna, mackerel, yellow tail, red snapper, eel, scallops, shrimp, and welk. As well as an assortment of fried dishes consisting of fried pork cutlets, fried shrimp, fried chicken, and even fried tofu. Everyone had a small bowl of miso soup to cleanse their palettes, a dipping tray of soy sauce and wasabi, as well as a full bowl of rice. 

There were also plates of potstickers, bowls of udon noodles, platters of rice balls, trays of takoyaki (grilled octopus balls), and piles of okonomiyaki (Japanese-styled pancakes) all up for grabs.

Hermione had just reached out and plucked a piece of fatty tuna sashimi between her chopsticks when a heavily German accented female voice spoke up. 

“You do not seem fery troubled by zee firscht task like vee are.”

Hermione looked up along with everyone else towards the Durmstrang girl who’d spoken – Mila Aldeheid Wolfgang, Hermione recalled her name from the room labels; first floor middle door. 

It was hard to tell who she was talking to as she kept her gaze on her plate, pushing a block of tofu around half-heartedly with her chopsticks. 

“Perhaps it iz because you haff flied zee path before?” She looked up then, punctuating her question with a piercing stare aimed straight at Mahoutokoro team, her tone light with faux innocent curiosity but her eyes hard with accusation. 

Around the table, hands stilled, chopsticks lowered, and half-chewed food were swallowed down hastily. 

Hermione and Harry exchanged quick glances, taken aback by the turn in events. It was only the first night and already claws were starting to show. 

Silence bore down onto the table so heavily it was almost like a slow creeping poison. The insinuation of such a question was not lost on any of them, as all eyes locked onto the Japanese team, waiting for their response. 

The previous air of friendliness that surrounded the Mahoutokoro team disappeared, replaced with a cold politeness armed with sheathed dagger-like stares. Reina beamed at the Durmstrang girl. This time the smile did not reach her eyes. Still it was so bright and bubbly, even Hermione was pressed to believe it was a genuine smile. 

“We have prepared ourselves as best as could for the tournament, as I’m sure you have as well. We are not worried simply because we know there is no point in worrying. There is a common idiom we have here in Japan, one that even babies know, _anzuru yori umuga yasushi._ It roughly translates to ‘it is easier to give birth than to worry about it.’ In other words, why stress? You will only suffer twice. Worrying is for the weak of mind.” 

Some of the champions nodded along slowly, seeing the wisdom in the answer. 

Hermione however was not so easily fooled. Despite her diplomatic words, Reina’s tone was laced with hints of patronization. 

“You speak a lot of vords, but you do not answer my question,” said Mila. “Haff you flied the path before?” 

Before Reina could answer, Ayumi intercepted. “No, we have not flown that path before. Does that answer your question, Wolfgang-san?” Her eyes flashed with a silent challenge but Mila was not one to back down so easily. The two girls traded intense stares, neither willing to give way to the other, as they pulled everyone else unwillingly along into the blackhole of magnetic tension they’d created. 

Just when it grew to be too much, Reina clapped her hands, the sharp sound effectively shattering the silence.

“Enough staring and more eating. The food is getting cold!” Reina smiled at Mila. Despite the warmth that layered over the surface, there was a depth of iciness to her tone. “Have we answered your question to your satisfaction?”

Mila shifted her jaw. “Ja, danke,” she said curtly, recognizing when to stop. She resumed her previous efforts of pushing her tofu around her plate. 

Dinner resumed slowly after that, albeit with a slightly heavier air than before, as everyone went back to minding their own business, many still internally dissecting that exchange for the truth. Hermione spared a glance at the Mahoutokoro team, wanting to get a better read on their reactions and their team dynamics, when she noticed the ends of Reina’s jet black hair lightening to a shade of dark brown. 

Hermione blinked and the effect was gone. 

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light?

She lifted her gaze and froze as she realized she’d been caught staring. 

Instead of glaring at her, Reina sent a quick playful wink her way before glancing to the left. Hermione followed her gaze and was surprised to find Fleur at the end of it, staring at Reina almost as if she’d offended her personally somehow. The French girl’s jaw was tense and her eyebrows slightly furrowed. 

Hermione looked back at Reina, wondering what had set Fleur off, only to watch the bubbly Japanese girl stuff an entire steaming takoyaki ball into her mouth and puff her cheeks out when it turned out to be too hot to eat. 

Hermione stored the questions away for later examination as sounds of struggle came from next to her. She turned to see Harry trying and failing to hold his pair of chopsticks properly, chasing after the loose grains of rice on his plate like a confounded chaser chasing after a charmed quaffle. 

Before she could open her mouth to give him some advice, rice splattered all over her robes and his chopsticks went flying dangerously through the air, nearly hitting her in the face. 

“Stop, stop. You’re going to poke someone’s eye out.” 

Harry grimaced as he vanished the traces of spilled food with his wand. 

“Dammit Potter,” said Draco, picking some rice out of his hair. “Were you raised in a cupboard? Did your parents not teach you manners?”

Harry brushed his remarks off with a side glare, though he briefly entertained the idea of poking _his_ eye out with a chopstick. His parents had taught him manners just fine. It just so happened that his father was terrible with chopsticks too so whenever they ordered Chinese take-out, they stuck with the fork and knives. 

“Watch me,” said Hermione. She easily plucked another piece of raw fatty tuna with her chopsticks and plopped it into her mouth, chewing joyously as the fresh flavors danced across her taste buds. 

“How are you doing that?” Harry whispered. 

Taking pity on him, Hermione told him her secret. “Magic.”

“Haha, very funny,” he deadpanned. “If you’re just going to make fun of me-”

“No, really,” Hermione insisted. “Magic. Think back to our first lesson in Charms.”

  
“Our first lesson in Charms?” Harry repeated. “What does that have to do with–” Oh. 

Harry stared at Hermione as she ‘picked’ up a piece of fried chicken and popped it into her mouth. She chewed with a satisfied smirk. 

He shook his head in disbelief. Seemed like a lot of bloody work to silently _and_ wandlessly levitate each piece of food into his mouth. Only someone like Hermione could have thought of that solution. 

“I think I’d rather starve,” said Harry. “Or stick to the soup.”

Hermione shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, swallowing. “Though you could always just transfigure your chopsticks into a fork, you know. You are a wizard, Harry.” 

  
  


* * *

The rest of dinner passed by rather uneventfully, much to everyone’s relief. There were a few conversations being exchanged between the different schools as they all grew more open to the idea of conversing. 

“So are you...of Chinese descent or Korean…?” One of the Chinese wizards, the one that wasn't a twin, Zhuge Ming asked the Ilvermorny girl who’d introduced herself as Cho Chang. 

“I’m not sure?” Cho replied. “I was adopted. Both of my adopted parents are white.”

“Ah. _That explains a lot,_ ” he muttered to his teammates. “Do you speak Chinese?”

“No?” 

“I see.” 

After that conversation died rather quickly and spectacularly, Cho engaged Harry in another one. 

“I love your accent!” 

“Thanks,” said Harry somewhat awkwardly. “I think yours is neat too.”

Hermione had to bite her lips to keep from laughing. For all his confidence and bravery, Harry was terrible around girls. 

In her stubborn endeavor to keep her head down and avoid glancing at the girl sitting across from her, Hermione didn’t notice someone else reaching for the tempura shrimp at the same time she was. Two pairs of chopsticks collided against each other. 

Hermione pulled away first. 

“Sorry.” 

“Désolée.”

Hermione followed the other pair of chopsticks to their owner, the brunette French girl who sat next to Fleur. 

"Pas de problème." The girl grinned away Hermione’s apology before tilting her head, the tempura seemingly forgotten between them. Her eyes squinted ever so slightly as she regarded Hermione with barely restrained curiosity as if she’d been waiting all night for an excuse to talk to her and now couldn’t resist pouncing on this opportunity. 

Hermione didn’t have to look to know that everyone had tuned in on their conversation. The lack of other chatter around them made it obvious enough. 

“You are ze ‘Ermione Granger, oui? I am Adelise LaRue. Eet is, as you English like to say, a pleasure to meet you. I ‘ave ‘eard much about you.” 

Hermione responded with a polite smile, her gaze drifting towards the one person that could’ve told Adelise anything about her. Fleur kept her expression passively cool, giving little away as to what she had revealed to Adelise. The lack of a smile however, even a polite one, made Hermione wary. 

“Nice to meet you too,” said Hermione, just pleasantly enough not to come off as rude but also formally enough to signal that she wasn’t in the mood for a longer conversation. She reached out and grabbed the piece of the shrimp tempura she originally wanted. It was halfway to her mouth when Adelise spoke again. 

“You and Fleur are friends, oui? Fleur, are you not going to say ‘i to your friend?” 

_“Adelise,”_ Fleur hissed under her breath, though the polite smile she directed at Hermione gave none of her annoyance away. The tight corners of her lips dropped as she turned her attention to Hermione and addressed her with heavily accented English. 

“Eet ‘as been a while,” she said somewhat stiffly. 

Hermione dropped the piece of tempura to her plate. “It has.”

Adelise glanced between the two of them, confused at the stilted exchange. 

_“Wait,”_ the boy on Fleur’s left piped in with bright realization, his lips widening into a smile as his eyes flickered up and down Hermione’s person. _“Is this the girl you competed against two years ago? The one that choked in the finals and failed terribly?”_

_“Matheo,”_ Adelise hissed, shushing him with a jerk of her head, the venom in her voice a hidden weapon underneath such a sweet countenance. _“Don’t be rude.”_

The boy pursed his lips, thoroughly admonished. 

All three of the French champions were now looking at Hermione – Adelise with a strained, apologetic smile, Matheo pale with guilt, and Fleur... 

Something in Fleur’s gaze flashed, her eyes never leaving Hermione’s as she confirmed Matheo’s question. “Oui. _She is._ ” 

Hermione forced herself not to react to the anger that flashed inside of her as she pushed a smile to her lips. Evidently, they had no idea she could speak French and she’d rather keep it that way. 

Besides, it wasn’t like Fleur or Matheo were wrong. 

“Is she a friend of yours?” Harry whispered, leaning into Hermione with a comforting protectiveness as he glanced sharply over at Fleur. 

Hermione was grateful for Harry’s presence. She stared stubbornly into dark blues as she contemplated her answer. “We’ve competed against each other before. That’s all.” 

The expression on Fleur’s face faltered, flashing with a hint of something else before it was quickly masked. 

“That competition was very difficult. Especially for us fourth years,” a boy with a light Portuguese accent chimed in. Hermione and Fleur turned towards the end of the table. The friendly Castelobruxo boy with red hair from earlier, the one that Hermione found vaguely familiar, grinned at the both of them. 

“You say zat like you were zere,” said Fleur with a slight frown. 

“Sim _,_ I was.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows together. But that was impossible. To her memory, there were only three fourth years in the entire tournament. Fleur from Beauxbatons, Hermione from Hogwarts, and the witch from Castelobruxo...

Realization sank inside both of them. 

Hermione shot a small grin towards the boy. “What a small world.” 

“De fato,” he agreed, his grin easygoing and confident. “I go by Renato now by the way. You two may have beaten me two years ago, but I will have you know,” he winked at both of them, “I am not the same person I was two years ago.” 

“No,” Fleur agreed quietly after a beat, glancing at Hermione with an unreadable look. “Neither am I.” 

* * *

After the dinner, Hermione followed the rest of the champions back to their designated pagoda. She purposely lingered in the back, bringing up the rear away from everyone else. Harry slowed his gait to match hers. Draco glanced at them warily but didn’t comment on it. 

“Are you okay?” Harry whispered as they strayed even farther from the group. “There was a moment during dinner earlier where, I dunno, you seemed rather tense?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m okay. It was just…nerves.” She gestured around at their surroundings as if that explained everything. 

Harry wasn’t convinced of her answer but accepted it all the same. “Alright. But if you ever need anything…”

“I know,” Hermione said quietly, gently taking his hand into hers and squeezing. He always had her back and she would always have his. 

“If you’re not feeling well tonight, we don’t have to –”

Hermione shook her head. She dropped her voice into a quieter whisper, wary of all the eyes and ears around them. “We should get started as soon as possible.”

“Then…?”

Hermione flashed her hands twice, signaling a five both times. Harry nodded. They parted their ways once they reached the pagoda, with Hermione heading up the left stairs while Harry went up the right. 

As she made her way up to the third floor, Hermione was surprised to see Fleur still lingering by her door, hesitating to enter. At the sound of her footsteps, Fleur looked up and Hermione paused on the last step.

They regarded each other with searching stares. 

Hermione waited for Fleur to move. She was in her way, after all.

Fleur glanced at the door before looking back at Hermione, tilting her head ever so slightly as she took in a small breath. 

“Would you like to come in for some tea?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the invitation. What...had caused this sudden invite? It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. Sure, they were _friendly,_ just on the principle that both of them were decent people, but Hermione would hardly even call them acquaintances. They’d only met once before today and even then, they’d only exchanged six words. 

Six words. 

“It’s late,” said Hermione. 

Fleur was undeterred by her soft rejection. 

“I will not keep you long. Zere iz somezing I would like to discuss with you.”

Which sounded extremely suspicious, if you asked Hermione. What could they possibly talk about? The tournament? The competition two years ago? All valid guesses, but what was there to say? Nothing Hermione could think of merited a private conversation in her room at this late hour.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Draco’s whispered, ‘ _Be careful, she’s just trying to psych you out because she knows we’re the biggest competition. Keep your guard up.’_

But Fleur was looking at her with such an intensity and open earnestness that Hermione had never seen on her before and dang it, Hermione was curious. She nodded. 

Fleur pushed open the sliding doors, gesturing for her to enter first. Hermione stepped through cautiously, instinctively scanning the room upon entry. The layout of the room was exactly the same as hers, making it easy to spot any personalizations.

A stack of books was piled in the corner. Hermione recognized the binding of at least three of them. Fleur’s suitcase was thrown to the side, half open. A lot of blue, Hermione noticed. And more books. The desktop was covered in loose pieces of parchment. Hermione couldn’t see what was written on them but got the sense that Fleur had really pretty handwriting. 

Overall, the room was messier than Hermione would’ve expected coming from Fleur’s ordinarily put together outer appearance. 

It eased her a bit as she sank to the floor by the low wooden table. Fleur took a seat opposite her. 

And now they sat, staring at each other, with silence as their third companion. Hermione waited for Fleur to speak – she was the one who invited her here after all. Instead, the silence dragged on and she found herself the sudden participant of an involuntary staring contest.

And Hermione wasn’t one to lose. She didn’t straighten her back, for that would show that she was trying too hard, and nor did she slouch or fidget. She remained perfectly still, a convincing image of calm indifference, while Fleur searched her with her eyes, looking for whatever it was she was looking for. 

Eventually, Hermione grew tired of the game and raised a single eyebrow hoping it would prompt the other girl into action because she did not have time to deal with this – what even was this? – a pathetic excuse of a power play meant to intimidate? If so, Hermione was sorry to disappoint. She wasn’t one to be easily intimidated. Not like this. 

Fleur raised her wand and Hermione tensed at the thought of a possible assault — Fleur didn’t seem the type to play _that_ dirty, but what did Hermione know? She hardly knew the girl. 

With a few flicks of her wand — the motions of which Hermione immediately recognized and thus relaxed — Fleur summoned a notebook from her suitcase. It flew over, landing on the table with a loud smack. 

Not for the first time, Hermione wondered what was going on.

Fleur flipped through the notebook. Hermione tried her best to catch glimpses of the contents inside as the pages flew by. It looked like the same thing had been written over and over in variations, scratched out and scribbled over. Fleur finally flipped to the newest entry and turned it around for Hermione to see. 

Hermione peeked down and it took her a second – the English catching her off guard – but she recognized it.

‘Recognized’ being a weak word. 

It was more like she’d been struck ruthlessly with lightning, shocking her from her spine to her toes. It’d dislodged her, tilted her sideways, picked her up and tossed her back through a warp in time. 

Back to two years ago. 

Staring up at her in loopy black ink was a potions recipe. _Her_ potions recipe to be exact. The one she used in the final two years ago and failed. 

“Why do you–”

“Eet bozered me for two years,” said Fleur, all calm and serious while Hermione felt like she was grasping at retreating edges, trying to find her way back to solid ground. “I could not feegure out what you were trying to do. I tried over a ‘undred times to feegure eet out.”

Hermione shook her head. What was Fleur saying? “It was a silly idea, unbelievably flawed–” 

“You feegured eet out zough, oui?” Fleur’s stare was intense as she leaned forward causing Hermione to lean back ever so slightly. “I saw ze list.” 

“The list?”  
  


Fleur gave her a look that said, _‘Do you take me for a fool?’_

Honestly? In that moment Hermione thought of her as less a fool, and more of a loose screw in the head type. 

“Zere is a list released every year of newly approved potions,” Fleur clarified. 

“Oh.” 

“Yours was on zere. Last year.”

It was. Hermione was astounded that Fleur knew such a thing. No one at Hogwarts besides the professors even knew. Not that Hermione tried to hide her accomplishment. It was just, well, she thought no one would be interested in it. 

She was wrong, clearly, as Fleur looked at her like this small piece of information was worth her entire life. 

Faced with such intensity, Hermione could only nod. Where was Fleur going with this? What was the point of this mind boggling late night confrontation? She hadn’t even been offered any tea despite the initial invitation, which, rude. 

“Show me.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. Fleur couldn’t be serious. She must’ve heard wrong. 

But she hadn’t. Fleur was as serious as Hermione had ever seen her. The same look of complete concentration that she had during the finals. 

Hermione sighed. What was happening? She pulled out her wand and twirled it between her fingers, silently transfiguring it into a quill, missing the small impressed look from Fleur. She looked up, silently confirming once more if Fleur was serious. 

She was. 

Pursing her lips, Hermione looked back down at the paper. Slowly she lowered pen to paper and as if triggered by an innate reaction, began writing. The words and concepts came easily to her. Hermione knew this potion like the back of her hand. It was to be expected after she’d spent a whole summer at Hogwarts trying to perfect it, after she _obsessed_ over it. 

She scribbled for five minutes, correcting the recipe, inwardly grimacing at the naive errors of her past self. For five whole minutes, Fleur watched over her, saying nothing. Yet Hermione was all too aware of her stare and her presence. 

When she was halfway done, Fleur let out a small laugh.

“I see.” 

Hermione paused. Intelligent blue eyes scanned the document. “Merci,” Fleur said quietly, almost bordering the line of reverence. 

Hermione undid the transfiguration on her wand and pocketed it. Fleur continued to stare at the piece of paper like Hermione had gifted her with the answer to the universe, not sparing her a single glance or saying a word. 

Hermione sat. Waiting. Staring. What...was she supposed to do now?

Hermione glanced around the room, half intending on looking for a clock to tell the time but mostly just to give herself something to do. Was this her cue to leave? 

Fleur continued to read in silence, except her pupils weren’t moving at all, meaning she was staring at just one line, or perhaps even one word, very _very_ intently. Whatever it was, Hermione decided it was time for her to go. Fleur can continue this weird fixation of hers alone. She stood up slowly, giving Fleur a chance to stop or to speak to her. She didn’t. 

Well, this had been fun. 

She was already by the door with one foot out of the room, a courteous ‘goodnight’ halfway out her lips, by the time Fleur finally spoke up. 

“You could ‘ave won, you know?”

“Hm?” Hermione paused and looked over her shoulder. 

  
“Eef eet worked out. You could ‘ave beaten ‘im,” Fleur finally looked up, emphasizing her next statement with the brilliant blue of her eyes. “You could ‘ave become ze next Potions Champion.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “That…that was sort of the point.” 

_If_ it had all worked out. 

Too bad it didn’t and she’d failed spectacularly in front of everyone. 

Fleur stared at her and Hermione’s skin prickled under the careful appraisal. Fleur eventually broke into a small laugh. 

“Right, oui.” She shook her head. “Good night, zen.”

Hermione could feel her face fighting the urge to scrunch her eyebrows in confusion. _What in Merlin’s scruffy white beard was—_

“Good night,” she returned quietly. She stepped out of the room and slid the doors shut. The last thing she saw before the doors met in the middle was Fleur sitting by herself, staring at the notebook, completely lost in thought. 

Hermione let out a quiet sigh as wood thudded together, her mind half imagining the girl still sitting there on the other side of this closed door, half replaying that terribly confusing interaction over and over, looking for any answers. She found none. 

Shaking her head, she walked to her own room. It was probably best just to sleep on it. Or better yet, read and forget about it until a later time. The answers would come to her later. They always did. 

“Hermione?”

  
  
“Merlins Harry!” Hermione startled, whirling around. “You scared me! I almost stunned you, you know?” 

“Sorry.” Harry’s head popped out from thin air. He grinned knowingly at her. “Did I see you coming out of Delacour’s room just now?”

Hermione shushed him, not wanting Fleur to overhear them. “Yes.”

  
  
He raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I’ll tell you later,” she said dismissively, not wanting to go into the details of it all. How long had Harry been standing there anyway? She glanced around, making sure they were truly alone.

“You ready to go? Malfoy didn’t notice?” 

Harry shook his head. “He hasn’t got a clue.” He held up the side of the invisibility cloak and Hermione ducked underneath. 

“I still think we should tell him,” said Hermione as they snuck down the stairs under the veil of the cloak. “He could help us. It would save us a lot of time.”

“You know I don’t trust him with something like this.”

“He’s our teammate – watch your step – if we can’t trust him –”

“We can’t. Now will you please drop it? We need to hurry.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” 

* * *

Fleur felt like laughing. 

The answer stared back at her, almost mocking. 

So simple. So elegant. Yet it changed everything. 

Two years. Two _whole_ years. 

Back then, she hadn’t even thought about winning. For a fifth year student to beat a seventh year student? It was near impossible. It’d never happened. Not once in the championship’s hundred year long history. 

Not even _once._

Then entered Hermione Granger, the young witch from Hogwarts — one of the only three competitors that was not a seventh year. She had caught Fleur’s attention almost instantly. One for the fact that they were the same age, and two because of how brilliantly she blazed through the preliminaries and semifinals. 

The brightest witch of her age. 

Fleur could see how she’d earned the moniker. It was well deserved, which only made Fleur want to beat her even more. 

Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour. One of them was slated to come in second, and the other third. The ongoing audience back then had been beyond excited. For the first time in tournament history, two fifth year students were going to stand on the podium together. 

They were going to make history and Fleur had studied her butt off to ensure her name would come out on top in the end. The excitement surrounding their possible showdown eventually overshadowed the hype for who would become the eventual champion, which was pretty much a sealed deal going into the finals. But the seventh year wizard from Mahoutokoro didn’t matter. The spotlight wouldn’t be on him. It was on them. Fleur and Hermione. Hermione and Fleur. 

In the end, Fleur had come in second.

Hermione came in last. 

When the results were announced, Fleur had been the most upset, certainly more upset than the Hogwarts witch who merely waved away all questions with a single smile. Not a word uttered to explain the disaster of a final performance. 

The media later called Hermione a fluke. Someone who couldn’t handle the pressure and caved. They revoked her “brightest witch of her age” title and mocked her for being a fake. 

But Fleur couldn’t possibly accept that reasoning. That wasn’t what she saw. Hermione wasn’t the type to give in to the pressures of winning like that. Fleur was willing to bet her quarter Veela heritage on it. 

So she dug. With a bit of needling and the minor help of her thrall, she managed to get her hands on the scribe’s records of Hermione’s actions during the potions final. 

What she saw made no sense. It was complicated, convoluted with complex theories and newly half formed methods. To everyone else, it may have looked like the scribblings of an over ambitious but scholastically unpar mind. Someone who aimed too high but had no idea what they were doing. An Icarus flying towards the sun. Something that could only end in failure. 

But Fleur knew better. It was madness, yes, but in the way Nicholas Flamel’s earlier writings had been deemed mad. Mad the way Dumbledore, acclaimed greatest wizard alive, was known to be. Mad the way geniuses were born. 

Hidden in between the nonsensical scribblings were sparks of pure, raw, genius - moments of connections between ingredients and seemingly unrelated theories to spark something completely new and innovative. It was incomplete, but it was there.

It made Fleur wonder just what kind of fifth year student would’ve taken such a high calculated risk and attempted such a crazy potion, practically throwing away their chance at a very possible podium finish just to grasp at the slim sliver of a chance to beat the champion. 

She sighed and placed the notebook down. 

What a fool she had been. The whole time she’d been occupied with beating Hermione, Hermione had never even bothered with her. _She_ had her sights set on higher stakes, on _winning._

Fleur knew better now.

And this time she wouldn’t lose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are finally done with day one, thus concluding the extended prologue. Who's excited to get more into the action? 👀
> 
> Also, please let me know if you're getting overwhelmed by the OCs. I am trying to introduce them one by one, slowly. 
> 
> Lastly, but certainly not least, thank you @CelticOffspring for helping me look over some of the parts.


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